


Resonance of Roses

by CapriciousVanity



Category: Gankutsuou: The Count of Monte Cristo
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dissection, Emetophilia, Eroguro, Gore, Guro, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Roses, Stockholm Syndrome, Stuffing, Vivisection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1801597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousVanity/pseuds/CapriciousVanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alien custom from southeastern space has Albert curious if his anatomy is even capable of such a feat. The Count of Monte Cristo is curious how far the Viscount is willing to take their little game. The answer? Albert doesn’t even notice it’s a game at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resonance of Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Resonance of Roses](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267619) by [Scolopendre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scolopendre/pseuds/Scolopendre)



 Edmond could hear the fluttering of Albert’s heart. With the boy’s chest splayed open before him, he stroked the small, beating organ. It was smaller than his fist. Albert was panting, breathing heavy with the amount of blood loss. The Count would not let him die, and Albert de Morcerf knew that. He trusted and adored the Count with all his figurative heart. His real one was much too small to hold so much faith. Albert was connected to a handful of tubes; they were feeding blood into his system. The Count patted the boy’s forehead with a damp, cool cloth.

The both of them had been talking about a small section of space to a more southern galaxy where showing one’s literal heart, exposing it to the elements, was a way of showing the utmost deepest affection and trust to someone. However, the particular breed of aliens there had a specific neurological organ located in their chest cavity, protected by exoskeleton as well as internal ribs. This organ projected emotions, empathies and sympathies, as it lay beside their actual blood-muscle. It was the second bloodiest organ in that alien race’s body as it took blood from the heart directly.  
  
Albert, the curious boy, asked the Count if it were possible for humans to do such a thing, or if the Count’s physiology would allow him to do it as well.  
  
“With enough life support, blood transfusion, and surgical precision, of course,” replied the Count. The two of them were walking down the golden halls of the Count’s  _ostentatious_  mansion. Albert was not wearing the same silly piratewear, but he did wear a little something Rococo. It not vintage by any means, it had been tailored for him and the gold trim on his red waistcoat was as glaring as the rest of the Count’s home. The Count found it rather…  _cute_. Like a child wanting to be noticed. Well, Albert _was_ a child wanting to be noticed.  
  
Albert’s rounded face flashed with disappointment, or perhaps abnegation. The Count decided to press on.  
  
“Tell me, Viscount, who would you open your heart to? Your fiancée? Your mother? Your dearest friend, the Baron?”  
  
Edmond pretended not to notice the soft flush that came to Albert’s face. The boy was much too embarrassed to admit the first person who came to mind wasn’t any of them. It was, of course, the Count he was so enamored with. Edmond thought back to their first meeting, or rather, the time they spotted one another across the room at the Opera on Luna. It was not the first time the Count had seen the boy, but he was not unaware of Albert de Morcerf’s hormonal feelings.  
  
“Well, Sir…” Albert hesitated. “I actually thought I would show _you_ my heart! I admire you greatly, Count! It would be nothing but honor to show you my trust in you, Sir!” Albert’s face gleamed before he stifled his enthusiasm.  
  
The Count almost felt guilty, having manipulated Albert so easily. His heart was pure white and easily stained. He supposed indulgence would not be too much of a sin, God knows he would sin far greater along the rest of his plot. Albert, waiting for an answer, having looked away.  
  
“You think of me so highly?” the Count asked.  
  
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I, Count? I'd trust you with my life, SIr. I…” The Count was flattered by this childish act. He felt that the boy's ardor was a simple volatile one that would dissipate after his plans would come to fruition. Edmond's growing attachment for the Viscount, he believed, was just as fleeting.  
  
“I wish I could be like you,” Albert finished.  
  
Edmond decided it wouldn’t hurt to push this further, hearing the palpable daze in the Viscount's voice. He patted Albert’s head with a short ruffling of his hair. Albert yipped a short  _hey!_  but was silenced when the Count kissed the top of his head. Albert stiffened with pink coloring his cheeks, like powder on a lady. The Count’s arm found it’s way behind Albert’s back as he guided him through the golden halls.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
The Count said nothing as they came to one of the many doors lining the hall.  
  
“Could I… Show you my heart?”  
  
Edmond looked down to the Viscount endearingly before opening the door, gesturing for Albert to go ahead of him. The room was nearly as abstract as the Sea beneath the villa. Albert suddenly felt dizzy before regaining his composure. The patterns were moving about, more so than the rest of the mansion. They gave him vertigo. They were made of a collage of Rococo paintings of bouquets and cherubs. Other than the floral pattern, it was like a hospital room from what Albert could put together. There were a couple of gurneys, tables, file cabinets… But not everything was gold in this room. In fact, it was rather dark with green and the subtle pink of flowers. The atmosphere of the room was hard to put together as it swam with the air of antibacteriant, but also with fresh dew on grass blades, as if the paintings emitted it themselves. The Count pressed Albert further. As they entered, Albert wandered to a particular tilt-table and the instruments hanging on stands. They were all sharp, they looked almost new. A few bone cutters and saws, curettes and forceps on a small tray, a gruesome looking forked hook, and a set of scissors with varying sizes. Albert de Morcerf was distressed by the amount of surgical equipment in the room when was suddenly struck with the smell of alcohol. He turned to see the Count, who had removed his coat, clean his hands and pull white gloves over them. He had pulled back his hair, a look that Albert soaked in.  
  
“Sit on that, would you, Viscount? Remove your coats and shirt. It would be tragic if you get blood on your garb.”  
  
“Yessir!” Albert said without thinking. Blood? He’s really going to cut him open? He was anxious and unsure, but did not question the Count. It was his stupid idea in the first place, why not go through with it? He removed his coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt. For good measure, he undid his belt and removed the sabre the Count had given to him. He looked around the room for hooks to hang them, but the Count took the clothes and piled them atop his own fitted clothes on the desk. He tilted the end of the table for Albert to sit back. Viscount Morcerf shuddered against the cold patterned steel. He swallowed as his forearms, wrists, calves, and ankles were strapped in.  
  
“Are you quite comfortable?”  
  
“It’s a little cold…”  
  
Edmond laughed alongside Albert’s nervous titter. He left Albert’s side to wheel a drip stand by the table. He disappeared for just another moment or two, bringing a cooler with him. He took a few packets of blood and hung them, but did not feed the tubes into Albert’s skin just yet. From the cooler, he also took a small box with a set of needles and syringes.  
  
“Count?” Albert asked.  
  
“Just morphine, to numb the pain.”  
  
“I’ll be awake?”  
  
The Count's sanguine look gave Albert goosebumps. Edmond reached up and pulled down a mirror by a chain as Albert watched him. He could see himself perfectly at the angle he lay.  
  
“You don’t mind a little blood, do you?”  
  
“No, Sir!”  
  
“Good. I would hate for you to faint and miss the spectacular show.”  
  
Albert blushed but didn’t quite know why. Edmond pretended not to notice as he usually does, but thought fondly on such small details he saw in the boy. Edmond filled a syringe with around 20mg or so. His fingers caressed Albert’s forearm before finding his vein and proceeded to give him the dosage. The Viscount stiffened when the needle pierced his skin. Edmond threw the syringe in the small garbage can hidden under the table. He placed a hand to Albert’s chest, feeling his heart before pressing gently. He took a scalpel from the selection. He could feel Albert’s heart quicken. Even with gloves, the Count’s touch was cold as ice. Albert almost didn’t notice the difference when the scalpel pierced his skin just beneath his clavicle. He looked down at himself before remembering the mirror. He looked up and sat back, stiff as he saw his bright, red blood seep from the incision. The Count cut into him very slowly, careful not to cut too shallow else the skin would not peel correctly which would make the process much more painful than need be. Though, he didn't seem to mind if he cut too deep.  
  
Viscount Morcerf watched himself through the mirror with a frightened look on his face as he grew pale and sweat, panting the pain away with his mouth slightly ajar. The blood bubbled at his wound. He saw the Count had stopped when he reached the bottom of his abdomen. Albert looked back down only to meet Edmond’s piercing heterochromatic gaze.  
  
“Are you alright, Sir Viscount?”  
  
Albert swallowed before croaking, “Yeah.”  
  
The Count hummed and assured him, “The morphine should be taking affect soon, Albert.”  
  
The Count wasn’t wrong, it was already starting. It made his words sound honeyed and thick with smoke.  
  
“A _r_ e  _y_ o _u_  r _e_ a _d_ y,  _A_ l _b_ e _r_ t?”  
  
Albert de Morcerf blinked a few times as the Count sounded just slightly farther away, but here he was, above his bare chest with a sharp object in hand. Edmond tilted his head. Perhaps the dosage was just  _slightly_ too much, but thankfully not enough to put him to sleep.  
  
Albert closed his eyes, his mouth hung slightly open as he breathed. The Count stared for a moment longer before peeling back Albert’s skin. Albert’s eyes opened and he squirmed; a small whine escaped his throat. He looked up at his reflection, watching the Count roll back his skin, cutting loose what stuck to his ribs. He carved away flesh and meat from between his ribs for good measure. The internal thoracic arteries connecting to his nipples were cut beneath his clavicle and Albert made a screech. The blood sputtered and a few droplets stained Edmond's white blouse. The Count quickly pinched the end together then moved and stretched them out of the way, pinning them to the boy’s skin and stapled the arteries together again. Albert’s mouth stayed open with a gasp. He felt a frigid cold hand on his cheek, but the heat of his own blood made a strange, wet feeling. Edmond put down the scalpel and stapler then took down the circular bone saw from the rack. He clicked it on and it hummed quietly.  
  
 _Oh god_ , Albert thought, half light-headed and barely conscious.  _Trust him.. I trust him. He isn’t going to hurt me, not on purpose._  
  
The Count placed the serrated edge to the far side of Albert’s exposed ribs. His gloved hand touched the raw, sensitive muscle that surrounded the boy’s ribs. He could feel the heart’s fluttering underneath. With the arteries out of the way and most of the muscle between the ribs gone, he could remove the bone without disturbing the staples. Edmond pushed the saw into the boy’s ribs and it whirred louder. Albert’s scream echoed in the room. The smile on Edmond’s face dissipated. He took another 30mg of morphine to inject Albert with. He stroked Albert’s hair, blood mixed with fat and other tissue greased and matted a lock or two of hair. Albert leaned into the touch and didn’t try to hold back tears. His head lolled to one side as he looked up to the Count with a languid gaze. The Count’s gold and red eyes flashed worry before returning to their usual cool state. Albert felt relief wash over him. It was most likely the morphine as he blinked slowly and closed his eyes.  
  
“Wake up, Monsieur Viscount.”  
  
Albert opened his eyes, still groggy if not slightly bloodshot. He looked up to see the Count’s face covered in his blood. He looked up at the mirror and saw Edmond’s hands were inside his chest. Tubes connected to his neck and arms. Edmond’s cold hands groped around Albert’s lungs, forcing air out of them. Albert began to cough roughly. His chin was up by the Count. He felt a glass be placed to his lips and he was relieved to find it was water. He drank nearly half of it at once Edmond placed the now-bloodied glass on the tray and fondled parts of Albert’s anatomy; his lungs, his kidneys, the emptiness of his Morrison’s Pouch… And finally, his heart.  
  
Edmond could hear the fluttering of Albert’s heart. The boy’s chest splayed open before him, he stroked the small organ, smaller than his fist. Albert was panting, breathing heavy with the amount of blood loss. The Count would not let him die, and Viscount Morcerf knew that. He trusted and adored the Count with all his figurative heart. His real one was much too small to hold so much faith. It was smaller than the Count’s fist as it fluttered helplessly, innocently, so pure, raw and purple. The Count held it in his hand, tugging it, but not enough to disconnect it. Albert looked to the mirror, captivated by his own heart dancing in the palm of the Count’s hands. The thought gave him butterflies throughout his body. He looked down, to see the Count’s face. The Count did not look back. He himself looked entranced by the delicate thing in his hands. He leaned down and planted his blue lips to the red-violet organ.  
  
Albert's breathing quickened pace. The Count looked up from the soft kiss, a smirk on his face. Albert was flush, hot with fever.  
  
“Sir Viscount, how does it feel?”  
  
Albert was too winded to answer, but when he tried, only a small squeak came out. The Count smiled with the slightest chuckle. He removed his gloved and took up new ones. He began to place ribs back to their respective locations when Edmond saw the boy shake his head.  
  
“No? Albert, your skin will crack and your organs will harden and dry. It is not healthy to be exposed like this for much longer.”  
  
Exposed… That was the word. Albert felt exposed, vulnerable, and somewhat dizzy. The amount of blood was more than he was used to seeing or bleeding, but he looked back up to the mirror. If he had any blood left in him, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to blush darker than his fever already made him. His breeches were tighter at his groin. He wasn’t completely sure why blood rushed  _there_  of all places. He wasn’t particularly aroused, in fact he was too tired to dwell to much on it. Edmond noticed Albert staring at the mirror longer than usual and looked up, himself. He attempted to follow Albert’s gaze and his own landed on the reflection of the boy’s trousers. He watched what he was doing through the mirror as his hand crept up Albert’s leg and stroked his inner thigh.  
  
“Sir…?” Albert tiredly questioned.  
  
The Count pulled away and took the glass of water, lifted Albert’s head with one hand and gave him water with the other. He finished the glass and Edmond refilled it with a pitcher that wasn’t there on the tray before, as far as Albert noticed anyway. He gave Albert the rest of the glass of water before he put it down, holding Albert’s head up so he could swallow. Albert looked better, but still tired.  
  
“So cold…”  
  
“I apologize.”  
  
Albert shook his head.  
  
“Again?”  
  
The Count smiled and brushed his icy hands against Albert’s cheeks. The Viscount sighed with relief.  
  
“Kiss me?”  
  
“Beg your pardon-“  
  
“Please?”  
  
“Albert.”  
  
“Please, Count. I think I admire you more than I thought.”  
  
The Count already knew that much, but he indulged the boy. With a sigh, he leaned closer, sure to look into the boy’s eyes when their lips met. Albert closed his, taking in the coolness of Edmond’s touch.

      “The human body is much stronger than the human mind,” Edmond murmured against the young Viscount’s lips before another kiss. “It can withstand years of torture, torment, beatings, bruises, cuts, and even surgery with minimal anesthetics. The mind, however, rots, locks all memories away as it is incapable of dealing with the torment head on or all at once. But you, Albert, you are the single polarity I have found to this conclusion. Your mind is strong, stubborn, kind… Your body, it is weak as you tremble here, bleeding profusely as I feed tubes through your veins. It cannot sustain itself on its own, even with an abundance of morphine, more than I really should give you. However, you lay there still awake. Why, Albert? To see the moment I peer in your chest and gaze at your still-beating heart?”

  
Albert looked to the Count with shame.  
  
“I’m sorry…”  
  
“Don’t go on apologizing, now, after I took the time to tell you how strong your will and mind are.”  
  
Albert smiled.  
  
The Count stood straight, his white blouse now stained with the boy’s blood

      “I would like to give you a gift, Albert. One of grotesque beauty, that is, if you believe your body can handle it.”  
  
“Sir, you don’t have to… I admire you for your kindness and personality, not your gifts.”  
  
“Do you not accept?”  
  
“Well, no! I’d hate to sound rude, I’ll accept any gift you’d like to give to me, Count! But, I don’t want to seem greedy, either…”  
  
“Nonsense. I pride myself in showering those I value with gifts and trinkets. A habit I’ve picked up in my travels the Parisian people don’t seem to appreciate as much as you, Viscount. Pardon, it is in the other room. Know that you are not alone here, but my gift requires you to still be splayed and open like you are now. Do you understand?”  
  
“Well… No. But I’ll wait. I don’t think I could get very far anyway,” Viscount Morcerf joked, tugging at the straps on his arms.  
  
The Count bowed with his hand to his chest and turned gracefully. His heels clicked and echoed behind him as he left Albert on the table, of which Albert’s and the table’s temperatures melted together.  
  
Albert did not wait long when the Count returned with a metal trolley completely covered in roses and small white… Pearls?  
  
Albert was taken back by the beauty of each fully bloomed rose, deep red in color. The Count took one and snipped the stem short before carefully placing it in the emptiness of Albert’s chest cavity. He took another and did the same, and put a pearl between the petals at the stamen. He filled Albert’s literal bosom with roses and loose pearls. He took up a new scalpel, smaller than the last one. Albert looked up at the mirror and felt overwhelmed by how beautiful it looked, being filled with roses in their prime and glistening pearls.  
  
The Count cut a small opening in the boy’s stomach and was sure to not spill his acid. He cut the stems short and stuffed Albert’s stomach with roses and pearls, as well, careful not to stretch the organ or tear more than need be. Albert felt full, so much that he could feel the petals of roses tickle the base of his lower esophagus. He swallowed, hoping to keep down the taste of roses as the Count stuffed his belly like a taxidermy doll.  
  
“There…”  
  
Albert’s stomach was sewn back and the Count carefully set the ribs in place. The petals of roses stuck out between the bones as Edmond smeared a polymer gel along the seams. So long as Albert would not rush around too much, he should heal fine. He pulled Albert’s skin closed and took up a needle to sew him together. Albert swallowed again, the roses in his stomach upsetting him. The Count stroked his bare belly, now rounder than usual. Albert shivered, trying hard to keep down the foreign objects. Edmond undid the straps and slowly lifted Albert from his position. He waited for the boy to calm himself before getting his clothes to give back. Albert wore his shirt but left off his waistcoat and overcoat. The Count, fully dressed, help the boy up. He made sure instruments were off, lights were dimmed, and the boy stable enough to walk. In an actual hospital, Albert would not recover for a while, but the polymer gel coating his ribs were secure. The Count, of course, has the best money could buy.  
  
He guided Albert out of the room. The Viscount was quiet, his lips sealed tight as he wobbled. Edmond pressed a hand to Albert’s back and another to his shoulder.  
  
“You did well, Albert. You are full of beauty and other such precious things.”  
  
The Count patted Albert’s full stomach, which caused the boy to buckle over placing a hand over the Count’s and another over his mouth. He landed on his knees, shaking, forcing himself to keep everything inside.  
  
“It’s alright,” Edmond urged, whispering in Albert’s ear. The boy fought back tears as he urped and vomited petals and pearls on the floor. They rolled and scattered, slick with acid, along the floor. Albert de Morcerf was shaking as his mouth and throat and nose burned. He heaved and out came more roses along with their stems and accompanying pearls. He choked and sputtered. The usual pungent smell of vomit was masked by the overabundance of rose. Edmond rubbed the boy’s shoulders comfortingly and offered his kerchief. Albert’s trembling hand took it and brought it to his face, coughing and blowing his nose only to feel pearls fall from his orifices into his hand. They fell from his palm and onto the floor, rolling across the hall. His flush pink face and sweat-coated brow were lightly patted by the Count. His mouth hung open as spit was wiped from his lips and chin.  
  
“See? Even on the inside you are fragile, sensitive, and, dare I say,  _pretty_. Viscount Albert de Morcerf, you are extraordinary.”  
  
Albert whimpered from pain and sickness, but he was no less grateful to the Count for giving him such an experience.  
  
The Count was merely testing how far Albert would allow him to toy with his heart. Albert did not notice his intentions at all, and thus the Count did not doubt the boy would soon be so dazed and entrance that he would not notice his own unhealthy habits and willingly follow the Count’s desires, no matter what they entailed.


End file.
